


Time After Time

by triste



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ll never be alone as long as I’m around.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time After Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [highboys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/highboys/gifts).



Title: Time After Time  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke  
Pairing: Kise/Kuroko  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: Mentions of mpreg, original characters  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

For highboys because this is the universe that WILL NOT DIE. Would also help to read her [drabble dump](http://archiveofourown.org/works/535907) and [Dance, Dance, Dance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/578771) fics before this one because it takes place in her mpreg family AU. <3

~~

They all go through growth spurts at around the same time, once they start middle school. The puppy fat begins to disappear, leaving their faces sharper, more defined, and one after the other they take turns surpassing Tetsuya in height, towering over him. It hurts a little, to see them like this, in the awkward halfway stage between child and adult, reminding Tetsuya that they’re growing up, that they’re no longer his babies. Ryouta doesn’t take it quite as hard, but then again, he’s not the one who’s being dwarfed by his own children.

Ryouma, the youngest, is the last to undertake his teenage transformation, and even he seems puzzled by it when he stares at Tetsuya strangely, reaching down to pat him on the head.

“Were you always this small?” he asks. 

“I think you’ll find,” Tetsuya says dryly, “that you, like your brothers, have been getting taller.”

But Ryouma isn’t completely convinced. “Are you sure you haven’t shrunk?”

The words bother Tetsuya enough to measure himself in the bathroom later (just in case), and he’s relieved to find that he hasn’t developed osteoporosis, that he’s the same height he’s always been, diminutive though it may be compared to his husband and three sons. Ryouta can’t stop laughing when he finds out what Tetsuya has been up to, which just rubs further salt into the wound.

“Sorry,” he says breathlessly, wiping away a tear of amusement. “I couldn’t help myself. It’s so funny.”

“No,” Tetsuya argues, frowning, “it really isn’t.”

He holds back when Ryouta beckons him closer, still sulking, so Ryouta walks over to where he’s standing, pulling him into his arms. As always, Tetsuya’s body fits against Ryouta’s perfectly, the top of his head snug under Ryouta’s chin.

“See?” Ryouta tells him. “Just right.”

Tetsuya stops being so stubborn, and melts into his embrace. “We’re getting old,” he sighs. “It won’t be that much longer before we’re grandparents.”

“At least wait until Ryouichi graduates from college and finds a partner to marry.” 

And that hurts, too, when Tetsuya imagines being there for his wedding ceremony, giving him up to someone else.

“I’m losing them, Ryouta.” His words are soft and pained. “They’re leaving me, one by one.”

“They’re growing up.” Ryouta tightens his arms, starts to sway their bodies together in a gentle, soothing rhythm. “It’s just what kids do. You have to let them go sometime.” He presses a kiss to Tetsuya’s forehead. “It’s okay. I’m still here. I always will be. You’ll never be alone as long as I’m around.”

 

~~

 

Sorting through all the loose photographs that have piled up over the years is always a time consuming job, and one that takes Tetsuya a whole afternoon just to get them organised into albums. It’s entirely Ryouta’s fault for being so obsessed with taking pictures, even before the kids were born. Tetsuya also blames him for spending far too much money on the latest cameras, but Ryouta never changes, and he never listens. The children, at least, have fun going through them, although they make matters worse by digging out the ones that have already been carefully collected and stored away.

“How come there are like, a million pictures of dad when he was pregnant?” Ryouichi asks

“That’s because I have a belly fetish,” Ryouta states proudly.

Ryouma frowns. “What’s a fetish?”

“Duh,” Ryouji says. “It’s something that makes you a pervert.”

Tetsuya only half listens to the conversation, keeping an ear out for anything that he might need to put a stop to, but Ryouta holds himself in check for once, and spares their offspring from hearing any more about their sex life.

There are pictures of birthdays, vacations, entrance ceremonies and graduations, but the kids are more interested in looking through the ones of their parents during their school days.

“Wow,” Ryouma exclaims, staring at a photo of the Teiko basketball club. “You all look so young. ”

Ryouichi points to another. “Dad, how old are you in this one? About nine or something?”

With as much dignity as he can muster, Tetsuya says, disgruntled, “Thirteen.”

The kids fall about laughing at his baby face, and Tetsuya keeps quiet about how even now, he still gets asked for ID sometimes when he’s out shopping.

Flipping through to their wedding photos, and it’s Ryouta’s turn to be distracted then, losing himself inside a mist of nostalgia as he goes on and on about how beautiful Tetsuya was, how amazing their honeymoon had been, and how he intends for them to renew their vows at some point (which is the first Tetsuya has heard of this, but he continues to remain quiet, still smarting over having his age mistaken).

“I bet you’ll totally cry,” Ryouma says, “like you do whenever anything resembling a momentous occasion happens.”

“You’ll be exactly the same when you get married and have children of your own,” Ryouta tells him, which causes Ryouma and Ryouji to wrinkle their noses in disgust. 

Ryouichi is the only one who doesn’t, but then again, he is in his final year of high school, and he’s been growing closer to Satsuki and Daiki’s daughter lately, much to Daiki’s resentment, unwilling to hand his little princess over to anyone even if she is eighteen already. 

Getting his camera out before an argument can start, Ryouta gathers them all together for a spur of the moment snapshot. It’s nothing special, and there’s no reason for him wanting to take it, other than to capture a mundane day in the life of their family, but these are the pictures Tetsuya likes most, the ones that he’ll always remember.

 

~~

 

It’s always so rowdy and noisy with three boys, and the mess they make is unbelievable. Tetsuya can’t even blame it on their ages, seeing as how Ryouta still seems to think that magical cleaning pixies tidy up during the night when they’re asleep. Tetsuya wonders sometimes what it would be like to have a daughter, if things would be any different, but Satsuki assures him, having two of her own, that while girls are easier to handle when they’re young, they turn into complete terrors once they hit their teens. It’s the other way around with boys, although Tetsuya still has a hard time teaching them not to leave their clothes lying around the house, but they’re getting better about not abandoning wet towels everywhere, and they’re all too old to be playing with plastic model robots anymore. The eldest is in college already, the middle son in high school, and the youngest in junior high, reminding Tetsuya how quickly time goes by. It only feels like five minutes since the days of sleep deprivation and feeding every two hours.

The memories are still so vivid, especially when one of his colleagues calls in at work for a visit to bring in her new baby while she’s off on maternity leave. It hits Tetsuya with an unexpected pang of broodiness, a longing he hasn’t felt in years, and it stays with him for the rest of the day, refusing to disappear.

Touching his belly, Tetsuya traces the scar there with his fingertips. There’s a part of him that yearns to go through the whole experience again, but the sensible side realises that it’s just his loneliness from watching the kids grow up and away from him. It makes Ryouta give him a look of concern, and Tetsuya tells him it’s okay, that he’ll make do with a dog instead or something, but then Ryouta places a hand over his, smiling down at him gently.

“I’d be okay with more kids,” he says, and Tetsuya wishes he wouldn’t, because it’s really irresponsible.

There are at least a hundred reasons why it would be a very bad idea for their family to grow any larger. Tetsuya is getting too old, for one, and they should be starting to prepare for when the children they already have fly the nest. Besides, three is quite enough. He knows he shouldn’t be greedy, he knows he shouldn’t be selfish, and yet...

“We can’t.” Tetsuya shakes his head, like he’s trying to convince himself more than Ryouta. “We shouldn’t.”

“It’s not too late,” Ryouta insists. 

“Just think of the problems it would cause. The boys will complain, we’d have to move to a bigger house, we’d have to buy all the baby things we gave away again –”

Ryouta places a finger to Tetsuya’s lips. “We’ll figure it out. Stop worrying so much.”

Don’t, Tetsuya wants to say. Don’t tempt me, but Ryouta makes it worse by dropping to his knees, pressing a kiss to Tetsuya’s stomach, running his tongue over the scar. Tetsuya closes his eyes and shivers, struggling to remain in control of himself even when Ryouta continues to worship his belly, even when he gets back up and pulls him into an embrace. Struck with a sudden sense of urgency and desperation, Tetsuya yanks him down for a kiss, guiding Ryouta’s hands to his ass as he ruts against him, unable to escape the little voice in his head that says it’s now or never, which is ridiculous because they have all the time in the world, but he wants – *needs* – Ryouta inside him right this minute. 

“Whoa,” Ryouta says shakily. “Where did that come from?”

There was a time when their lovemaking used to always be like this, when their relationship was still new and exciting and unfamiliar.

“Fuck me,” Tetsuya whispers, rolling his hips, impatient. “Please, Ryouta.”

Ryouta’s pupils dilate, breath hitching, the tenderness in his eyes turning to desire. He’s just about to kiss Tetsuya again when the kitchen door slams open to reveal their two youngest sons, bickering and jostling each other. They stop dead in their tracks, identical expressions of horror on their faces, but this has happened so often that Tetsuya has forgotten how to be embarrassed.

“Oh my god,” Ryouji groans, shielding his gaze. “Cannot unsee.”

Ryouma, however, recovers more quickly, breezing past them on his way to the refrigerator. “Get a room, you guys.”

So, Tetsuya and Ryouta do just that.


End file.
